


I Wanna Grow Old With You

by SnowWhiteKnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Older Characters, but they work it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7951426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor's having some troubles and trying to keep Sansa from finding out. This can only end badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Grow Old With You

“Sandor…” came the sultry voice from their bed. “I'm rea~dy!”

Fuck, he loved her voice. He had had to make do with only hearing it over the phone for the past month, but he was home now and it should be doing things to him. He stood in front of the mirror of their bathroom, staring at the herbal medicine bottle in his hand. It had promised results in half an hour. It had been an hour now. Fuck.

“Sandor ~ ~”

 _Fuck fuck fuck,_ he thought as he downed six more pills. He didn't regret having a wife fourteen years younger. He only regretted that he was fourteen years older, and that his age was catching up with him. Like right now, when his spirit was more than willing but his cock was being stubbornly limp. He stroked it a bit, concentrating on the image of his fucking fantastic wife, moaning and saying his name in that willowy voice of hers…

Nothing.

_FUCK!_

**********

He tried. He really tried. He had eaten her out first, made her come twice, fingered her and made her come a third time, but she wanted his cock, begged for it, and it was _still_ limp as a cooked noodle. He had to tell her of his defeat.

“Sansa...I can't... I'm sorry, but… I can use my fingers again. Or my tongue? Whatever you prefer.”

“Wha-- but why?” she asked in a scared voice.

“I'm sorry. I look at you and you look--” Stunning. Fabulous. Lovely. So fuckable. He couldn't choose. “But…” _My dick is old. It's sixty-four, after all._ He didn't want to say it out loud. “I can't get it up,” he said finally.

She got up without a word and put her robe on. _Fuck. She's angry._ He listened to her moving around in the kitchen. _What is she doing?_ More noise. The sound of the sink, then the stove. _Is she making tea?_ Never a good sign. He slipped out of the bed, forgoing his robe. The kids were grown up and living on their own, or at college, in the case of their youngest, so what did he care about clothing?

He padded across the tile floor, staying out of her sight as she rummaged through the cabinets, looking for her favorite mug.

It had been a gift he had bought her before they started dating all those years ago. A failed date with her then boyfriend at a paint your own ceramics place, with the douche not showing up and sending Sandor to tell her. He had ended up staying and participating with her, making her a mug with a craptastic red bird on it. She had loved it. It felt like so long ago.

Back when she was a naive seventeen year old and he was the creepy thirty-one year old head of security that protected her from her boyfriend and his boss, Joffrey Baratheon. Back when she was first kind enough to bring him warm apple cider or hot coffee on cold nights. Back when he quit his job just to be able to take her away from that psycho. He had hurt her before, would have hurt her again, but Sandor had pummeled the little shit before he could lay a finger on her that night. He should have done it earlier, but his little bird had kept that information secret from him, had hidden her pain, her bruises, her wounds. She had tried to protect him because she had known what he would do to Joffrey if he had found out. It had been worth being nearly sentenced to jail. She had wiped the blood off his face and kissed him that night. They had been together ever since.

He heard her sniffle and it broke his heart. “Sansa…”

She looked up at him in surprise. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, her face was wet with tears. She quickly wiped her face and grabbed a tissue to blow her nose.

“Little bird…”

“It's alright, Sandor,” she said, looking at him with a sad smile. “I knew this day would come, but I hoped it wouldn't be until after I hit menopause.”

“I tried, I really did…” he started.

“I know, and I do appreciate it, but I'm forty-nine, about to turn fifty. It makes sense that you wouldn't…” She choked back a sob. “That you wouldn't desire me anymore.”

“Sansa, that is the furthest thing from the truth!” he said with force, surging forward to stand in front of her. She shook her head, murmured that it was fine. “No! No, it's not fine!” He grabbed her and hoisted her up onto the counter so that they were more eye to eye. “Sansa, I will never stop wanting you, desiring you, but little bird...I'm _sixty-four years old._ I lived a hard life of booze and bad habits before I met you. Not everything works the way I would like anymore.” He glanced down at his flaccid cock. “Trust me, if I had my way, I'd be fucking you morning, noon and evening all over the house. We finally have it back to ourselves and I can't even get it up to hold a towel for you.” She giggled at that and wiped away her remaining tears.

“So, it's not because I'm old with a wrinkly bottom and sagging breasts? You really still want me?”

He kissed her. “You don't have a wrinkly ass and your tits are still the best I've ever seen. Will never stop, not even when I'm dead. We're gonna bless all the seven heavens with our love.”

“Blasphemer,” she whispered, but she was smiling.

“Hey, I can't wait, since it means I won't have to rely on shit medicines to help me--” He frowned, grimacing from pain.

“Sandor? What's wrong?”

“My dick...ow, fucking hells…what the--” He and Sansa looked down. “Oh, my…” she said. It was huge and dark purple, much more than normal.

“Fuck,” he said through clenched teeth, “I think I'm dying…”

“What did you take?” she asked, hopping down from the counter and removing the tea kettle from the stove.

“Some homeopathic shit, like herbal viagra. I wanted to be with you since I was gone so long...fucking _ow_...but I've been having trouble...didn't have time for prescription… _ow_ … bottle is on bathroom sink.”

“Go lie down, I'll call the doctor.” She ran off to find the bottle and the phone. He walked back to the bedroom at a snail’s pace, holding onto the wall for support. She was already on the phone by the time he got there and lay down on the bed gingerly on his back. “Yes, he said he took it before we...um… Oh, the dosage says two pills.” She turned to him. “Sandor, did you take more than the recommended dose?”

He nodded and held up both hands.

“You took _ten?!”_ she shrieked. “Oh, sorry Dr. Tarly… I didn't mean to… Ok… Ok… Oh, yes, I can do that. Thank you, Doctor.” She hung up the phone and sighed. “Good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first.”

She shook her head, but said, “You're going to be in pain for a while. A long while.”

“And the good news?”

She removed her robe and stood above him, grinning. “Well, you're not dying, but it will help if you have a lot of ‘little deaths’,” she said, sinking down on him. Fuck, she still felt as good as the first time. “So, what would you have me do, husband?” she asked, rolling her hips and eliciting a desperate moan from him. “Should I leave you to your own devices or--”

“If you get off my cock before the damned medicine wears off, I'll just take ten more pills.”

She laughed, “Can't have that, now can we?”

**********

Sandor went to bed that night completely satiated and exhausted enough to sleep for a year. Sansa curled up to his side, blissfully happy.

“You can tell me that sort of thing, you know. If you're unable to be intimate like that,” she whispered. “I know it's not your fault.”

“I know, little bird. Just embarrassing and all that. Always was your strong and virile hero. I wanted to be able to stay that way in your eyes.” He kissed the top of her head with soft affection.

“Do you know when I began to open my heart to you?” she asked. He shook his head. “It was the night of the big party, when you escorted me home. You were drunk, and I ended up being the one who drove, and then letting you sleep over so you wouldn't crash driving back. You fell on top of me, on the couch, and I was terrified because you were so angry all the time. I thought you were going to do something awful, but you ended up telling me about your scars… About Gregor… I felt...I suppose I felt connected to you in that moment. I started to notice when you protected me, in your own way. It was like I was seeing you with new eyes. All because you showed yourself to me, when you were in a dark, weak moment, but you _trusted_ me with that moment, with that secret. I knew then that I would never betray that trust. I have never been tempted to, no matter how much you got on my nerves. That was also the moment I stopped being scared of you.”

He stared at her. The moonlight lit up their room, and he could see her blue eyes, still as bright and sparkling as when she was seventeen, still as full of love as when they first kissed. Only the crows feet and the age lines on her face made him think of how much time had passed. “I never knew,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said with a smile. “Sandor, you are my hero, my strong, virile husband… We have six children to prove that!” They both laughed at that. “But I also know that other side of you. I always have. And I love you all the more for it. Never doubt that.”

He sighed. “I know… I know… It's just...well… Male pride and all that shit. I don't want you to think less of me.”

“You once held a gun to my head and told the Lannister-Baratheon clan you would kill me if anyone followed us,” she said, a wry grin on her face. “If that didn't do it, I don't know what will.”

He barked a laugh. It hadn't been funny that night or even five years after it happened, but now that it was thirty-something years later, he could look back on it with something other than remorse. “I did it for your own good.”

“I know. I knew it then, too. Otherwise I would have fought you. Wouldn't have gotten onto the back of your bike. Wouldn't have kissed you once we were away from them. Wouldn't have stayed with you so long.”

“You were one brave little bird,” he said. “My hero.”

“I didn't do anything special,” she protested.

He shook his head. “No, you're wrong. You did what no one else could do. You tamed the Hound, made me _want_ to be a better man, you let me try to be one for you. That's why you're my hero.”

“You're getting sentimental in your old age,” she giggled.

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” he said. He rubbed her back, the old scars there had faded, but he could still feel the faintest trace of them. Cersei and Joffrey had paid for what they did to his little bird, since he had been more than happy to testify against them in court, spilling all their dirty little secrets, and the old anger didn't resurface from the memories anymore. Cersei had died in prison, after pissing off the wrong inmate. Joffrey was somehow still alive, but the warden was a friend of Sandor's and had confided to him that Joffrey survived by becoming the bitch for the toughest inmate around.

“I'll go see Dr. Tarly this week,” he said suddenly. Sansa looked up at him. “Get a prescription for something to help. I'm basically your human sex toy. Gotta keep myself ready for you.”

“Sandor! You are _not--”_ He cut her off with a kiss. Why she loved him, he would never understand, but as long as she did, he would make her happy until his dying breath.

**Author's Note:**

> Ha ha, old age man... It sucks, but it's not as bad if you've got someone to laugh with. :)


End file.
